I Am John Sheppard's Pillow
by WriterJC
Summary: On Atlantis, even the bedding is special. Characters: Sheppard, Beckett, McKay and the Pillow ...


Author's Note: Written for the LJWS Inanimate Object prompt on Live Journal. On Atlantis, even the bedding is special.

I am John Sheppard's pillow. It is a calling I have cherished since I chose him so many nights ago. The moment of our first meeting remains vivid in my fibers. It was the day our great city rose from her deep slumber.

During those initial hours, many moved along the once-lonely corridors oblivious to our presence. But I had hope that some would have need of our services. The passage of time until they found us was not long.

"Here it is." The city hummed with contentment as the man I would come to know as Carson Beckett stepped into the large outer room. Carson was bright, and his light beckoned to us all. Another man, Rodney McKay, followed Carson and made a soft 'huh' sound.

Then John Sheppard entered.

Though a heavy wave of exhaustion followed him, he practically glowed. He was the one. He would be mine.

"We found it when we were looking for additional storage space for the infirmary," Carson continued. Though I heard his words, I was deeply distracted. "We weren't very sure what all of these machines were at first, but then we found these."

One of the sliding doors several slots over was moved. It filled me with anticipation and the hope that my slot would soon be opened as well.

"Blankets." McKay's tone was flat. We did not seem to be of great interest to him. "You dragged the two of us all the way down here for blankets? We were in the middle of …."

Steps moved toward the sliding door that served as protection for my area. The glow that was John Sheppard was moving closer and I completely lost the rest of Rodney's statement and Carson's annoyed response.

The door slid open and I got my first true sense of the man that I had chosen. He looked down at my supple surface for a long moment. We were caught together in that instant as I reached out to communicate my choice to him, to let him know that he needed me. A small frown touched his brow and he twitched a hand in my direction.

"Oh, and pillows." Rodney appeared behind him. "How ground breaking – the Ancients used pillows. Quick, someone file a report."

I bristled in annoyance. Pillow was the word for an item similar in appearance on Earth, but here, in Atlantis, we are so much more. And this place, while obviously beneath Rodney's notice, serves a very important function.

"It's obviously a laundry room." John grabbed me from the shelf and tucked me under his arm, claming me as I had claimed him. "Things are going to start getting pretty ripe around here without one. Why don't you assign someone to make sure everything is running?"

Rodney made a rude noise, then sighed. "Fine."

"Lovely." Carson grinned, obviously pleased. I heard one of the other pillows thrum for his attention, but he was focused elsewhere and did not hear. "Now that you have that pillow, Major, perhaps you could get some sleep? You're looking a wee bit weary."

"I'm fine, Doc." John walked through the door. He took me to an empty room and tossed me atop a bed. Despite my loudest calls for him to allow me to soothe and absorb his fears, he did not remain.

It was many hours before he returned, and by then he was dizzy with the need to rest. He stumbled as he dragged off his boots then collapsed, still clothed, among the bed coverings.

I came to know the anguish of his journey here, the guilt of lives lost and the insecurity concerning his ability to lead and protect. I drew it away for the night so that he might truly rest. He woke the next morning with the sun, refreshed and eager to face the day.

Many nights have passed since that first one. I have held him through blood and sweat and nightmares, providing a place of concealment from the negative things which seek to rob him of much needed slumber. In the bright light of day I allow them to float away on the winds and burn off in the sun. Some things though require the cleansing waters of the washer rooms.

It is another night and I have sensed that John has returned from a very difficult experience. I feel the weariness in his steps and the heaviness of loss in his heart. I know he will have need of my gentlest touch. As he lays upon me, I hold him close; as he wraps his arms tightly about me and buries his face I absorb his sorrow; and as he at last drifts into healing sleep, I wick away the tears that manage to escape.

I am John Sheppard's pillow. I will cherish him until I am no more.


End file.
